Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(60)

“Hey,” Beau said from someplace to my right, nudging me. “Hank.”

I didn’t acknowledge him; I was too busy watching Charlotte.

Correction: I was too busy staring at Charlotte.

“Hank,” Beau grit out again, then whispered harshly, “did you hear me?”

Ignoring him, I pulled off my sunglasses to get a better look. approximately one moment ago, she’d been walking around in her mostly dry tent of a T-shirt, but now Charlotte was soaking wet, engaging in a water fight, her and April against Hope and Hannah. All the women were laughing, and most of the guys were watching, open-mouthed, enjoying the show. Me included.

This, the vision before me, was literally what wet dreams were made of. I did not hesitate taking mental snapshots of Charlotte Mitchell, wet and flushed and hot and laughing her great laugh, looking carefree and like she was having the time of her life.

Thank you, Universe. Tomorrow, I was buying Shelly Sullivan a car. Or a boat. Or a house. Whatever she wanted.

Beau snapped his fingers in front of my face. I frowned at his interruption.

“What? What do you want?” Didn’t he realize this was a once in a lifetime event? Couldn’t he give me five damn minutes?

“What is the matter with you?” he asked, sounding more amused than irritated. “The heat addled your brain or something?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Beau lifted an eyebrow—he did this a lot recently—and glanced pointedly toward the water fight and Charlotte. “I can see you checking out your employee, Hank,” he accused, though he wore a confused smile, his tone disbelieving. “Is something going on I should know about?”

“She’s not my employee anymore. She quit.” Giving my complete attention back to the women spraying each other with water, I chewed on my bottom lip and pulled in a deep breath, holding it in my lungs, my brain close to catching on fire.

“She’s your employee for nearly two more weeks,” he said, but I wasn’t listening.

If there was a god, clearly it loved me and had plotted to give me this moment to make me happy. But it also hated me a little because Charlotte had just picked up a soapy sponge and tossed it at Hannah, which made Hannah toss a soapy sponge right back at her.

And now she was covered in soap and I was close to suffocating in lust.

Before I could catch the impulse, a muttered half groan of “Jesus” fell out of me and I lowered the clipboard I’d been holding to cover my groin.

Beau made an unhappy sound. “You cannot be serious right now.” He hit my shoulder, his tone turning urgent. “Please tell me you’re not—”

“Shh.”

“Don’t shh me, I’m trying to—”

I reached to the side and, without looking, endeavored to cover his mouth with my hand. “Shut up, Beau. Just let me have this.”

Laughing like something was unbelievable, he caught my wrist and yanked it away. “I am so confused. I mean, you spend day in and day out surrounded by gorgeous, naked women and have never looked at any of them twice. And now you’re staring at Charlotte like she’s a wish fulfillment. You couldn’t stand her three weeks ago.”

April and Hope were holding up their hands, calling a truce, and I frowned, aggravated at the potential cease-fire. No. Don’t stop. Fight fight fight.

“I’m not going to date a dancer who works for my club, dummy.” Making a face, I answered his non-question, craning my neck. Charlotte had dropped out of sight behind a car.

“Why not?”

“I’m their—you know—I’m their mentor, their boss. They need to be able to trust me, and it would be incredibly unprofessional, not to mention unethical. Besides, I don’t think of them like that. They’re family, like having a bunch of sisters and brothers.”

He made a sound as though to argue.

I added, “Unlike some folks, I have morals and don’t date my subordinates.” I said this last part to tease him, but also hoping it would shut him up.

Before he and Shelly started dating, he’d been her boss at the Winston Brothers auto repair shop. Actually, technically, he was still her boss and they’d been together for years.

“Ha ha. You know it wasn’t like that with Shelly. She and—never mind,” he grumbled, huffed, then hit my shoulder again. “Are you—are you planning on asking Charlotte out? Now that she’s not working for you?”

Charlotte reappeared. The hose she held no longer sprayed water, and the water fight seemed to be at an end, but that didn’t matter. The big, baggy white T-shirt she’d been wearing was now—finally—completely soaked, clinging to every heavenly curve, molded over her luscious skin, and highlighting the fact that the bikini Shelly brought was definitely two sizes too small.

Wet dreams, indeed. Thank you, unknown deity, whoever you are.

“Hank?”

“What?”

“Are you planning on asking her out?” I registered a hint of uncertainty in Beau’s voice and it struck a nerve in me, the same one Patty had plucked on Friday.

“Of course not,” I snapped.

“Why ‘of course not’?” His tone had mellowed, sounded curious. “Obviously, you like her. Or the way she looks, at least.”

“But nothing could ever happen between us, could it? I’m a sleezy strip club owner and she’s a church-going single mother of four.” Too distracted to modulate my tone, unintentional bitterness crept into the words, bitterness that surprised me.